Her head shook in fear. She knew what she should do. What she had to do. But either way, something bad was going to happen to someone in her life. One option just had to do with herself.  Tyris knew that to save herself, she'd have to let him go.  "It'll be as if he never existed."  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the topic from her mind, but coming away unsuccessful.  What am I supposed to do?  She knew any of her friends would choose their own safety over a subject's.  They would not hesitate.  A subject was not as good to society as the Pures, they all thought.  Even when the subjects might be the only people who can beat the Rebels. In Ty's eyes, all of them were dim-witted. Why couldn't anyone see that they, the Pures, should be the ones bowing down to the Subjects? One day, they will be our savior. And I will get to tell them all, "I told you so."

Nothing gave her greater pleasure than thinking that. Yes, she knew it was terrible, but she loved being right. It made her feel as though she were right, and that she could be as smart as the rest of the scientists in Shaw. Her father constantly made sure she knew her place. But when Ty was right in her predictions, Nix couldn't stop her from shining out of her place. And he couldn't stop himself from hating it.

Ty knew that somewhere in his heart, Dr. Nix Fallow resented her. He had never wanted to have kids. His wife, Malyruele, had talked him into it, and he agreed to one night without using any form of contraception, thinking that they wouldn't be lucky - or, unlucky, as Nix would say - enough to conceive a child in one try. But they had. And Tyris had been born. She knew that he'd trade her any day for Malyruele. And, when he realized he couldn't do that, he pushed her away, as she reminded him too much of his wife, with the long blonde hair and the captivating grey eyes. Tyris saw the resentment and the small amount of guilt on the important days. Her birthday. Her mother's birthday. Their anniversary. And any day that he just happened to pick up an old photo album. Sometimes, he avoided her, only leaving a note telling her it'd be best to stay at a friend's.

And it was then, in that moment, as she thought of all he had done to her - all he hadn't done for her - that she made her decision.

And that was not to make a decision. At least... not one that had been offered to her. And she knew exactly who to turn to to get it done. 

•

Keaton was dreadfully tired, sitting in his hospital bed, and the thing he longed for most in that moment was a deep sleep. But the voices crowding his head wouldn't allow it. So many conversations.  And each was practically gone as soon as it appeared.  Still.  The invasion was driving him insane.  He'd have to find a way to drive them out, sooner or later.  Hopefully sooner.  The voices increased in tempo, and Keaton turned to his stomach, smashing his face into the pillow.  Ugh.  I just want to sleep!  He tried, but failed, to stop the groan from coming out of his throat.  Stop.  Stop.  Stop.  Stop.  Stop. 

Apparently, this wasn't the way to get voices to exit your mind.  The voices again rose in power.  Go away.  Go away!  GO AWAY!   And then they stopped, abruptly, immediately.  His head snapped up.  Well that worked.  Elated, he let his head fall back to the pillow, welcoming sleep like his greatest friend. 

•

Tyris's voice drifted to him out of the darkness.  Faintly, he realized that his eyes were shut, and he opened them, confused to find them on Twin Peak.  Not too far from the place where Shaw rested, there was a second plateau, down south and east.  It faced the vast expanse of water that the scientists and specialists called Survivor's Waters.  Rumor had it that the starters of the new civilization, after World War XI, crossed Survivor's Waters, and set up camp.  Twin Peak was their sacred place. 

Now, there was nothing sacred about Twin Peak.  The Rebels used the place to scare Shaw, and if they had any specialists in their midst, they'd throw them over the ridge, into Survivor's Waters.  No one ever survived an hour in that ocean. 

Keaton looked past Tyris's shoulders, onto the ocean, watching as the blue-black of the waves rippled, and formed something entirely new.  "Keaton..."  Her voice called out to him, drawing his gaze.  She was suddenly a lot closer than she had been, her grey eyes locking onto his green ones.  He opened his mouth to say something to her, but found that words would not come.  His hand went to his throat, and his panic was growing.  Tyris's nimble fingers latched onto his hand, drawing it away from his neck.  "Don't try to speak.  It will increase the pain." 

He stopped struggling against the block in his throat only because the confusion was settling in.  "It will all make sense.  Soon.  I promise."  She wove her fingers through his, dragging him to the edge of Twin Peak.  "I promise.  I promise," she kept muttering, over and over.  Tyris stopped, and she ended up facing Survivor's Waters this time. 

"I promise you, Keaton Sailor.  Nothing will harm you."  Once the last word left her lips, figures shimmered into the space behind her.  Rette.  Dare.  Jara.  Cyran.  Ralnor.  Riniya.  Martyz.  The woman from his dreams.  The man she talked to.  They all reached forward, Tyris included, their hands forming into one pair.

And they pushed him over the edge of Twin Peak, into the waters that no one ever survived. 

•

A/N: well it's certainly been a while.  I'm sorry about that.  I hope this kind of makes up for it.  Are there any theories you have about what's happening to Keaton?

What his dream might mean?  (Yes, that last scene was most certainly a dream). 

Alright, it's kind of late here, where I am, and I just realized that I have nothing to say right now.  So I'll just leave it at that. 

See you soon
Jordan